“Oh, yes. We have met before, and we serve the same master.”

  “The Noble Qanju?” I had read what Myt-ser'eu had said of him not long ago.

  “No.” He did not laugh but I saw his teeth, whiter than foam. “Great Seth. Do you know that name?”

  I said I did not.

  “Set? No. I see that you do not know that name either. Sutekh?”

  It seemed strange that he could thus read my expression in that darkness, but I only said, “No. Who is he?”

  “The Desert God.” He paused, and I wished I could have seen his face as well as he saw mine. “Here is a piece of true wisdom for you. Circle it in your scroll so you will read it each time you glance at the place. The true god is the desert god. Do you understand that, Lucius?”

  “No,” I said. “It seems to me that every god must be a true god. If he is not, he is no god.”

  “We are both right. Repeat what I told you.”

  I did.

  “You will not recall it. Still you may recall having heard it before when you see it again. You are at the last cataract.”

  I had thought this the first, having heard the sailors talking.

  “This river is born far to the south. Six cataracts stand between it and the sea. This is the last. All is sure and safe below it. There are soldiers of Parsa and Kemet to keep the peace, and the Medjay still function as of old in many places. Above, it is not so. A wise man going south will seek to know his future.”

  I asked how any man could know it.

  “If he cannot see it, he must heed those who can. Set seeks to reveal yours to you. Will you hear him?”

  “Gladly,” I said.

  “That is very well.” He laid his arm across my shoulders; it was only then that I realized that he was a larger man than I, though I myself am larger than any of the sailors on this ship.

  “Do you object to the company of beautiful women?” he asked me.

  I said, “No man objects to it.”

  “You are wrong. But you do not. Neither do I. Creature of Sahth! Come forth!”

  The lid of a long box not far from the open hatch was lifted. The woman who joined us was young and beautiful, and wore a necklace and many rings and bracelets. “You knew I overheard you, cunning Beteshu.”

  I believe the one who called himself Beteshu must have smiled. “I overheard your breathing.”

  “I do not breathe,” she told him.

  “How could I be so mistaken? Will Lucius take you to wife? I know you wish it.”

  I remembered that Myt-ser'eu had told me she was my wife, and said that I had a wife already and could not support so many women.

  “I will not ask for food or beer,” the woman declared. “I cannot do heavy work, jewel of my heart, but I can do all else a wife can do, and you will never hear an angry word from me. May I go to Latro, Beteshu?”

  “Would you slay your present husband? If I were to say yes?”

  “Do you?”

  Beteshu did not reply.

  “You are as far above me as the stars, Beteshu. Have pity!”

  “Do not say such things.” Beteshu's voice is as soft as the night wind, but there was an angry snarl in that wind tonight. “Slay your husband and you will be destroyed. Not as my master once destroyed you.” He paused and drew breath. “As I destroy.” He held out his hand and blew upon it, and red fire shot up from its palm.

  I have seen many black men today. Black men unload a ship on the farther side of the pier. Most are dark as tar, but the palms of their hands are not. In the light from that flame I saw this man's hand, and its palm was blacker than charcoal.

  The woman returned to the box from which she had emerged without another word, and reaching out of the box picked up its lid and closed it upon herself.

  “We were interrupted.” Beteshu's voice smiled again. “Do you blame me for that interruption?”

  I shook my head. “I do not blame anyone for it.”

  “That is less than just. You yourself are to blame for it. Your presence stirs her to life. That is why she would be with you always. Did you know?”

  I had not, and said so.

  “It is true. You see gods and spirits whenever they are near, whether they would be seen or no. There was a time when I had to leap off this ship so that you would no longer see me. You will not recall that time.” His hand closed upon the flame, and it was no more.

  I laughed as fear makes men laugh.

  “You have power over me,” Beteshu said. “I have power over you. I could destroy you if I wished, yet I am your friend. You have nothing to fear from me.”

  “I am a friend,” I told him, “to those who are friends to me.”

  “I must speak about your slave. He is a cobra taken from the crown of a certain one. You must not kill him. He may kill you if you try.”

  I said, “I will not try. What sort of man kills his own slaves?”

  “Every sort of man.”

  We sat in silence for a time. Now and then, faint voices came through the hatch. Now and then, feet pattered on the deck above our heads. I felt then that we had been sitting so for years, side by side, and might continue so until the Golden Age returned, though the ship rotted around us.

  “One man works his slave to death,” Beteshu told me. “Another turns drunkard and beats his. You must strike to kill. A slave owns no slaves. Circle that too.”

  He was gone; and I sat in the stinking hold alone, sweating in the heat. I have told Uraeus what was said, and written the truth at his urging. I must believe it.

  23

  THE WATER-PATH

  THE CANAL AROUND the cataract is long and tedious. So says Kha, the man the governor is sending to the Nubian king. Qanju does not think it so long in truth, only that we will be long there.

  Kha came aboard today, soon after the scribe and the scribe's wife. Alala is taller than Kha, slender, young, and silent. Her skin is a ripe olive's. My wife says we have not seen her before. Alala brings with her a baboon, very large but quiet and well behaved. Thotmaktef the scribe is young and two hands below his wife in stature. His shaven head shows that he is a priest. (His wife says of Thoth, but I do not know this god.) Now he smiles much and speaks much, too; but this may be because he has a new wife. I like him and her, but wonder whether I could trust either. Those we like best are not always to be relied upon.

  Kha is a man of middle years, thick at the waist. Like Qanju, he has dignity. Although a man of Kemet, he is a sagan. Muslak says this, and explains that these are men whose counsel and probity have earned the governor's ear.

  When he came, Qanju was speaking to Thotmaktef and Alala. He invited Kha to join him, but did not send Thotmaktef and Alala away. These four wished to confer unheard, but though this ship is larger than most, it is crowded. I saw that Neht-nefret and Myt-ser'eu were standing nearby, and had little trouble drawing near enough to listen too. Muslak did the same.

  Qanju introduced himself and explained that he is our leader and a sagan of the satrap's. Kha bowed and named himself. Qanju introduced his scribe Thotmaktef, and Thotmaktef's wife, and all four sat. Kha asked whether Alala could be trusted in confidential matters. Thotmaktef said she could be trusted absolutely. Kha asked Alala the same question.

  “Your first duty is to the governor,” Alala said. (She spoke more softly than the men, and Kha cupped his hand behind his head to hear her.) “A wife's first duty is to her husband. Nothing you tell me will be safe from mine.”

  “What of your friends?” Kha inquired. “Those with whom you are accustomed to share secrets.”

  “I have no such friends.”

  “Your sisters then.”

  “My sisters share no secrets with me,” Alala said, “and I share none with them.”

  Qanju murmured, “Nor are they on our ship.”

  Kha asked, “Do we sail today?”

  “We sail now,” Qanju said, “unless there is reason to delay.”

  Muslak pretended not to hear this, but I saw the look he gave Azibaal.

  “My bag is on board,” Kha said.

  Alala murmured, “So is mine.”

  They spoke of places for sleeping and eating, but I will not give all that.

  “I am to ask King Siaspiqa to show you the gold mines,” Kha said. “He may refuse, though I think he will not. Rest assured that any mines he shows you will be exhausted.”

  “I understand,” Qanju said.

  “May I ask why you wish to see them?”

  “I have with me a Hellene who is familiar with the methods used in the silver mines belonging to his city. We hope that these mines will reveal to him the methods employed in Kemet of old.”

  “You must not speak so in the presence of King Siaspiqa. These mines are in his land. They are his now.”

  Qanju nodded. “Your counsel is wise. Neither will I speak of mining methods to King Siaspiqa.”

  Alala murmured, “Is the Hellene here? Should he not join us?”

  “I would have sent for him if he were on this ship,” Qanju told her. “He is to meet us above the cataract.”

  Kha smiled; his smile is very small. “This Hellene is wise to refrain from so lengthy and tedious a journey.”

  “If you would prefer … ?”

  Kha shook his head. “I am equally unsuited to walking and the donkey.”

  Alala whispered to Thotmaktef. “He might be carried in a litter or driven in a chariot. He wishes to know everyone on the vessel before we reach Napata.”

  Kha had caught her whisper, even as I. He smiled again, and nodded. “You have chosen well, Thotmaktef.”

  Thotmaktef made him a seated bow. “I have, I know.”

  “I have reason to hope, however, that we will find King Siaspiqa south of his capital. If the gods so will it, we may enter his presence north of the second cataract.”

  There was more talk which I will not give here. Qanju called me over and introduced me to Kha; after that he told Kha, “Holy Sahuset is a learned man of Kemet. Perhaps you know him?”

  Kha shook his head.

  “The satrap sent him to assist me. He speaks the language.” Qanju returned to me. “Could you find him for us, Lucius?”

  Aahmes, who knew him, said he had gone ashore. I took him with me to search, and we took with us his four soldiers of Kemet. I soon found Sahuset.

  When we returned to the ship, Myt-ser'eu and Neht-nefret were talking with Alala. Qanju sent me away, so I joined them.

  “My father is a priest of the temple of Thoth,” Alala said. “He has often told me I should marry a priest, but none here are suitable. My new husband is a priest of the temple of Thoth in Mennufer. He is young and kind, and suits me very well.”

  “He is a friend of ours,” Myt-ser'eu told her. “Like my own husband, he has the ear of Qanju, and is thus a person of importance. Have you met my husband?”

  Alala said she had not, so Myt-ser'eu made me known to her. “Latro is foreign,” she explained, “but he speaks our tongue almost as well as you do.”

  Alala's smile made me like her at once. “You think me foreign, too. I was born here, though my parents came from the south.”

  I asked whether she was Nubian—of Yam was what I said in the tongue of Kemet.

  “We do not speak as you do. There are two peoples. My own, the Medjay, are the Lion People. The old men speak of King Siaspiqa. He is king of the Nehasyu, the Crocodile People.”

  Neht-nefret said, “In Kemet, Medjay are what we call those who guard royal tombs and bring anyone who breaks the law to the judges.”

  “They are we,” Alala told her. “You pay our warriors to guard your burial places and drive off those who would come to steal and kill.”

  “Do you speak the tongue of King Siaspiqa?” I asked her.

  “Better than I speak this one,” she said, and demonstrated, speaking a tongue unknown to me.

  “What have you done with your pet?”

  “I have no pet.” For a moment she looked puzzled. “My mother has a cat. Do you know her?”

  I said no more, but before laying aside my brush I should write a thing I have neglected. When I saw Sahuset in the market, I told Aahmes and shouldered my way through the crowd. When we were alone, Aahmes asked how I had recognized Sahuset so quickly when the market was thronged. I explained that Myt-ser'eu had pointed him out to me that morning before he left our ship, and I had seen his pet.

  “He has no pet,” Aahmes said. This despite the fact that the monkey had ridden Sahuset's shoulder when we brought him to Qanju. I have asked Myt-ser'eu whether I see animals others do not see. She said she could not say what I saw. She looked frightened as she said this.

  Uraeus says my memory is among the gods, and will say no more.

  WE ARE IN the canal. It is long and winding and has some current, though the water does not rush as it rushes through the cataract. Ten yoke pull our ship along, treading a path beside the water-path. It seems very slow to me, but Myt-ser'eu says we often sailed no faster on the river. I could walk much faster. Myt-ser'eu says I forget, and Uraeus confirms it. Tomorrow I will leave this ship, walk ahead, and see what is to be seen. I have told them to remind me of this.

  THIS MORNING MYT-SER'EU told me I had wanted to walk ahead of our vessel before the sun grew hot. She made me promise to take Uraeus with me. Qanju overheard us. He said I might go, but that I must take two soldiers. Thus we set out: Aahmes, Baginu of Parsa, Uraeus, and I.

  Here the earth is lifted, thus the cataract. Baginu says that as it rises, the land of Kemet is left behind. He is a horseman, and wished often that we were mounted. It would have been better, he said, if the satrap had sent us on horseback. Perhaps it would, but everything we bring would have had to be loaded on horses or donkeys. There are few horses here, I think, and donkeys would have slowed us greatly. Ships need tar, sailcloth, and sometimes fresh timbers; but ships need not be fed and watered each night and rarely sicken and die.

  I STOPPED WRITING to talk with a woman. She spoke of a husband, and Myt-ser'eu says this is Qanju's scribe.

  She told me much. “The people of Kemet think themselves very wise,” she said, “but they know little of the south. Their forefathers knew more, but they have forgotten.” She spoke of spotted deer taller than trees, and showed me one worked in gold to fasten a cloak. They cannot be as tall as she says.

  “They speak of the Land of Yam, but there is no Land of Yam, only a memory. They speak of Kush as if Kush were all the southern lands. There is a river-kingdom of that name with very fine horses. Its people are cruel.” She pointed south and east.

  I said that they could not be cruel to their horses, or they could not have such fine ones. She agreed.

  Her people have horses also and herd cattle, following the grass. I do not know what she meant by this, but I did not ask. It is because of their horses and dogs that the satrap pays them to watch the marches of Kemet, and because they are fine trackers.

  These things I did not know while we walked up the path the oxen follow. We saw small deer, very pretty and graceful, with spike horns. Baginu wished to shoot one, but I told him to wait until evening, when we would rest and eat. Uraeus drew me aside, saying that Myt-ser'eu might lie with another while we were gone. I asked why he thought this, and he said he thought it because she had made me bring him. I saw the wisdom of this and halted as soon as the sun grew warm. This ship overtook us about midafternoon. Qanju questioned me concerning the village we had seen on the other side of the canal.

  24

  AGATHOCLES

  A HELLENE HAS come to our ship. Myt-ser'eu says he has been with us before. She does not like him and complains that he stares at her. So do the sailors and my soldiers, but Myt-ser'eu remains in our tent now so that this Hellene cannot look at her.

  We are camped by a town of mud brick beside the river. Its people are as dark as Alala. I asked whether they had a temple of the Red God, for I have been reading what the man whose hand held fire said. They do not. Alala's hands are black only on the backs; so with these people. I wrote that the hands that held fire were black everywhere.

  The Hellene speaks long with Sahuset. I would like to know what of, but they sit before Sahuset's tent and fall silent when anyone draws near.

  I CANNOT WRITE well. I have drunk too much for it. I must set down what I saw anyway. Myt-ser'eu and I went back to our tent very late. Without my arm, she would have fallen. A baboon squatted in front of Sahuset's. It was eating a monkey, eating fast, cracking and swallowing the bones like a dog. I tried to keep Myt-ser'eu from seeing it. I write beside our fire.

  EVERYTHING WAS READY today, but we did not put out, conferring instead in the shade of a sail the sailors spread on poles. Qanju did not want Myt-ser'eu with us, but I have told her something of what was said, and Neht-nefret seems to have told her everything. Neht-nefret was there because Thotmaktef was in the village and Alala would not join us without another woman present. Myt-ser'eu was in our tent. The captain called Neht-nefret over. Alala smiled and they sat side by side.

  Agathocles said, “Here is an opportunity for all of us to become rich and highly honored. Some of you know something of it already. Sahuset knows everything and is in full agreement with me.”

  Sahuset nodded.

  “Sahuset was sent by the satrap to represent the people of his nation—most of you know that as well. The Noble Qanju knows as much as Sahuset. He was sent to represent the satrap himself, as you also know. He wishes to have counsel from the rest of you before making his decision, for he is a man of sound judgment.”

  The captain said, “We'll have nothing to say until we know what you're talking about.”

  Agathocles nodded. “I am one of you if you will have me, but the satrap did not send me. I was sent by my friend Charthi, a man of the noblest blood of Kemet. His son Kames came here looking for the mines of the pharaohs and never returned. Charthi has promised to reward me if I find him. I'm not hiding it. Without the promise of a rich reward I would not have come.”